


But I Never Planned On You Changing Your Mind

by sunset999



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: 16x16 follow up, Angst, Jo-centric, sorry this is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27312772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunset999/pseuds/sunset999
Summary: Alex is gone, really gone. And Jo just can’t seem to grasp that.
Relationships: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson Karev
Kudos: 16





	But I Never Planned On You Changing Your Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo this is my first time posting in AO3!! I was thinking about the atrocity that was 16x16 and how disappointed I am that it was announced that Jo will cope with Alex leaving with humor. I kinda felt that it was unfair that I have grieved over the end of Jolex more than Jo herself!!! So I wrote this :) also as I’m rereading I feel like one of the lines I used I read somewhere, Twitter or tumblr maybe? Anyway if so credit to that person, it rly stuck with me and I fit it in

It used to be that, with him, it was like she was staring into a mirror. They could both be so detached, so guarded, so unwilling to tell each other what is really going on. But it hasn’t been like that for years. Everything was so clear and so easy and she could tell exactly how he felt from a raise of an eyebrow or a far off look. She knew him. She was so sure.

But she didn’t know the man who did this to her, the man who up and left with no explanation. The man who ran away. Who was that? She knew a man who promised and stayed and never once left. She always ran. He always followed. That’s how they worked. That’s how they were supposed to be.

Her ears ring with memories of years and years of promises. She remembers so many moments where it seemed like he was the only person she had, and would continue to have for the rest of her life. He was hers. 

She laughs sharply at this. It’s so horrible and contradicting and unreasonable that it’s ironic. It would be funny, if it wasn’t so terrible. Wasn’t so…. She doesn’t even have words to describe it.

She spends the foreseeable future alone, lying in bed. She can’t remember the last time she showered. She can’t remember the last time she was fully sober, or the last real meal she ate. She doesn’t go to work. She doesn’t talk to anyone, besides quick texts to a few friends, reassuring them that they do not need to check on her. She can’t make her body do anything else. She sits and stares.  
Stares at nothing, stares at everything. 

The little things in their home-- her home-- that remind her of him. Of them.

Suddenly she is filled with fire. A raging, burning hatred. She gathers all her strength and gets out of bed, throwing open his drawers. She yanks out every last piece of clothing, purposely ripping and tearing and destroying any shirt that reminded her of him too much. The clothes lay scattered behind her, but her rage carries her to the bathroom. She opens the window and screams as she throws anything of his out into the cold March air. 

She hadn’t noticed that she had started crying. Her rage has cooled, replaced with a cold, dark sadness. She walks across the room, entering the kitchen. She wants to take the photos off the fridge, cut his head out of every picture, keep them in a box, and one day, many years from now, someone will stumble upon the box and ask who the man missing from the pictures is.  
But as she stares back at the pictures she can’t imagine defiling them. It would be a crime to cut out his smiling face out of all these happy memories. He might not love her anymore, but he did once.

She corrects herself, he does love her. He said so himself. But he implied that he’s not in love with her. Flat out, he said he was in love with someone else. He was somewhere else. He was the missing piece to someone else’s life, not to hers. Not anymore.  
The tears are falling hard now, as she collapses onto the floor and keeps sobbing, right there, leaned against the fridge. She feels heartbroken. And so utterly alone. 

Nothing makes sense. Nothing has made sense since she learned the truth. She thinks of the time where they were broken up for over a year. That whole time he never looked at another woman. He claimed that there was no reason to, he was always sure they’d end up together.

And yet, he had no problem jumping into some other woman’s bed while she was home, responding to his last name, referring to him as her husband. 

He says it’s not her fault. He says he’s gotten everything he’s ever wanted and that he wishes it didn’t have to hurt her. She is so confused. He had said, so many times, that she was everything he ever wanted. That their life, their future, was all he had ever dreamed of.  
She feared that things would never make sense again. He took every certainty, every sense of safety, everything she was ever sure of with him when he left. 

And now she feels foggy. She is living and breathing but she is not really there. She thinks she will spend the rest of her life this way: plainly going through the motions, void of happiness and joy. 

She’s not sure she can live like this, not sure she wants to. 

She knows she has to though: she has worked too hard and suffered too long to give up now. This is just another thing she will go through, another good thing she can attribute to her messing up. 

She wishes she could be happy for him. He deserves everything good in this life.

But she doesn’t. 

She wishes that in a few short weeks the honeymoon phase wears off and he remembers all the reasons he ended that relationship.  
She wishes the novelty of having a dad wears off, and his kids start to question him and refuse to listen to him.  
She wishes that at the end of every night he lies awake, wishing it was her next to him instead.  
She thinks that believing that he is struggling will make her feel better, and justify her sadness.

But she knows he is thriving. He loves his kids and they love him. She can so clearly see him in the school pick up line, on the sidelines at soccer games, receiving handwritten Father’s Day cards.

But thinking it’s not all good things makes it easier for her. She just wants this sadness to be over and her to be better, to be great.

As her sadness bubbles up again, she thinks of one of the many promises he made to her.

“We’re the only family we need right? And we’ll be together forever, right? You and me. And if we have kids, we’ll be great. I’ll be a great dad and you’ll be great and it will be just us. We won’t need anybody else, okay?”

It’s funny. 

He is a great dad now, and well she… she’s just great.


End file.
